


WARD ZERO: BAR SUMIRE, 2010

by murakumounits



Category: No More Heroes (Video Games), 花と太陽と雨と | Flower Sun and Rain (Video Game)
Genre: 25W spoilers if you squint, FSR spoilers, Gen, drinking together is better than drinking alone, speculation and wishful thinking, to achieve high score: beat your dad, video games are for everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28096689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murakumounits/pseuds/murakumounits
Summary: Two women sit at a bar, have a chat, and play some games.Rated for alcohol consumption and digitized violence.
Kudos: 1





	WARD ZERO: BAR SUMIRE, 2010

Toriko Kusabi was listless, staring down at her martini. Life in the Wards was lonelier than she had ever imagined, and the near empty bar she occupied only reminded her of how sterile the Wards had become since her return from Lospass a decade past. She missed Christina, and Sumio; she even missed--

“Hey, you play games at all?”

Toriko looked around; a pale woman with cropped white hair and an aura of sheer exhaustion slumped into the barstool next to her, setting down her drink and motioning to top them off. She leaned into the backrest; Toriko noticed (after a few moments of looking over her strange appearance) a beaten bag at her feet, filled with wires and smooth stone. “I’m sorry,” Toriko said, tilting her head, “What sort of games? I don’t know your name--”

The woman rolled her eyes, sipping her drink. “It’s Juvenile; as for games, any. Games are expansive, just give me a title.”

Odd name aside, Toriko didn’t want to let the opportunity for _actual human interaction_ slip past. “Like, Asteroids?” She asked, and was taken at how Juvenile looked at her, _into_ her, before nodding, reaching down into her bag, and pulling out a right-handed glove composed of polymer material and wiring reminiscent of tiny, delicate veins.

“Give me a moment. You don’t get motion sickness, do you?” Juvenile slipped the glove on easily, flexing her hand with it three times before removal and placement on the counter.

“Don’t think so…”

“Great, then you can help me out. Finish your drink, by the time you’re done I’ll have something ready.”

Toriko complied with Juvenile’s request, draining the half-empty martini glass. She feels the warmth of her hand envelop her own as the older woman sets her up. Before the girl can register what’s happening, her eyes snap open, overtaken by a tingling feeling stemming from the glove, traveling up her arm, her spine, her neck. The bar they’re in melts away as she feels the machine fix onto her consciousness, neon lights mixing in a kaleidoscopic mass until all color falls away, replaced only by stark, static blackness.

“How are you doing this?” Toriko asks to endless void; she receives a small _tsk_ in response.

“We don’t have the word count for that. Just trust me. Now, move forward.”

Toriko hears Juvenile’s voice echo around her, and lines bend in front of Toriko’s line of sight. The girl complies, and her body manifests, vector lines and pixels, illuminating the dark. She feels flat, gliding along in darkness, no sound but Juvenile’s measured breathing surrounding her.

“… Okay, stop. You said Asteroids, so you know the rules. Think of shooting from your left hand. Last as long as you can.”

\---

Juvenile observed Toriko as they sat alone in the bar- her breath slow, her body still save for her hand twitching as she interfaced with her creation. She saw a smile form on Toriko’s visage as she acclimated to the console environment, and couldn’t help but form the smallest of earnest smiles herself- sure, she needed a playtester, but this felt more organic than some shmuck being paid too little to tell her that “game looks good” after many passes and no actual feedback. The drudgery of coding, testing, loading up the instance for people who couldn’t appreciate the _craft_ _and intent_ behind it had made her sharper than necessary during development of the Death Drive; a tall order for anyone, let alone someone with Juvenile’s gifts; this felt a bit like getting back to her roots. Connecting with the _player_ , not some _stockholder_ viewing her as an investment. However, since the game she had pulled Toriko into was simple enough, Juvenile figured that she could relax her standards. Rapping her fingertips against the counter of the bar, she willed herself to be vulnerable.

“Hey, mind if I engage in a bit of confessional?” Juvenile asked. Toriko nodded, both in game and out.

“My father always taught me that the follow through on your swing is essential.”

A glowing golden bat appears in Toriko’s right hand, and it feels as natural as breathing to swing within the virtual void.

“In whatever you do, you see it through to the end. But things get lost in the shuffle.”

A brief pain assails Toriko’s back, and she turns to see blue spheres lining up behind her. From her left hand, lightning shoots out, taking out her assailants- however, the space dust left in their wake spirals and shapes itself into the form of Tetsugoro Kusabi, and Toriko’s eyes widen, startled.

“You assume more responsibility. It's your errant thoughts, distracting you, pulling you from the need to be focused on the task at hand.”

Kusabi smiles at Toriko, pulling out a gun and pointing it directly at her. She flinches and feels a pain blossom in her chest- did he _shoot_ her? Her breathing accelerates; ignoring the pain, summoning the effort to run, to reel the bat back, to-

“Swing, after swing, after swing.”

As the bat collides with Kusabi, he breaks like glass, shattering before Toriko’s eyes in a mess of data and pixels. She shakes her head, mixed emotions swirling about in her mind as she closes her eyes and feels Juvenile remove the glove.

Just like that, her consciousness settled back into her physical body as if she never left. Juvenile took a knowing sip of her drink, allowing Toriko a few moments to adjust before gently resting a hand on her shoulder.

“… That felt good.” Toriko said, opening her eyes, gazing at Juvenile, and the older woman lets out a snort of laughter.

“Yeah, playing games typically does. You did great, kid. Wanna chat some more?”

Toriko looked down at the bag- it was zipped up, closed with an air of finality, and the glove was nowhere to be seen. Only her, Juvenile, and two fresh cocktails.

“I’d love to.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for GHM Zine Volume 2: to see it fully formatted (with illustration by @orangecreams on twitter) and with a collection of excellent work by passionate artists all over, go and grab it! You can find more at gumroad.com/ghmzine. 
> 
> Much appreciation and love to the Grasshopper Manufacture fandom, without which this would have just stayed an idea. You're all wonderful people and I'm so glad that this is in print with other incredible works. Y'all rock, stay punk, video games forever. <3


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